


let your heart be light (our troubles will be miles away)

by johnnlaurenss



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Hand Jobs, Holidays, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnlaurenss/pseuds/johnnlaurenss
Summary: “Thanks,” he says quietly, and for the first time Alex realizes the guy is even cuter up close. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m usually not so…”He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Alex understands. He offers the backpack forward, an olive branch. “No stress, man. It’s the holidays, delayed flights are shitty for everyone. Trust me, I wasn’t happy when I learned the flight was pushed back either, I’ve got stuff I have to get back to, and a delayed flight really might fuck that up.”***In which John's life isn't a motherfucking feel good holiday movie, except that it is, and he really isn't complaining.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The romantic holiday comedy that no one asked for.

For what it’s worth, Alexander Hamilton was trying to keep to himself.

 

He wants that to be noted, that he was attempting to exhibit restraint and stay in his seat for once in his life.

 

He had so much going on already, between trying to fly home during a snow storm three days before Christmas, between trying to figure out where he and Eliza stood, between trying to decide what in his life was worth keeping and giving up. So he sat uncomfortably in the chair in the airport, with his backpack at his feet and his notebook in his hands and a cup of coffee teetering dangerously on the seat next to him, and he waited out the delay of the flight, and he tried very hard to keep to himself.

 

**From: Eliza**

[3:02] Did you want us to come pick you up from the airport?

[3:09] …Do you want me there?

**To: Eliza**

[3:10] Flight is delayed two hours.

[3:10] You’re a grown woman, Bets. You decide whether or not you want to come.

 

His coffee was cold, his hair was a mess from the hasty bun he threw it in, his hand was cramping from being permanently wrapped around a pen. And he didn’t know what to do about Eliza. So yes, Alexander considered, he had enough on his plate that he shouldn’t be thinking about leaving his seat and this bubble he’s formed around himself.

 

It was really just that—and this _isn’t his fault_ —he had looked up from his phone for barely a second before he caught sight of a scene at the boarding desk. A man who had to have been the prettiest person Alex had ever seen was arguing with the flight coordinator, quite loudly, and had been getting more and more agitated as the flight coordinator had continually shook their head. Then, quite noticeably, the attractive man had begun to cry.

 

Alex is on his feet and walking towards the desk before he even realizes it.

 

He clears his throat as he approaches, and the flight coordinator levels him with an unimpressed stare. The crying guy hiccups slightly and turns to look at Alex. “Uh,” Alex says smartly, eloquent as ever. “Excuse me, if you don’t mind my interruption. What seems to be the problem, here?”

 

The attractive man lets out a frustrated groan, throws his hands up in the air, and pouts. The flight coordinator deadpans, “Unfortunately, it seems the flight delay is an inconvenience to this gentleman, and him alone. And there is not anything we can do to _make_ it more convenient for him.”

 

Alex raises an eyebrow. The guy huffs. He looks embarrassed as he starts to cry a little more. “I need to get out of here, _I’m sorry_ , but it’s the goddamn holidays and what kind of cliche airport has delays during the goddamn holidays? _My life isn’t a motherfucking feel good holiday movie_ ,” he shouts. His cheeks flush prettily when he realizes he’s making a scene; the brightening skin does wonders to highlight the splatter of freckles covering his cheeks.

 

“Sir, there isn’t anything we can _do_ ,” the coordinator stresses again, turning away from Alex. The guy lets out another angry shout then quickly turns away and storms off. Alex gapes at his back as the guy leaves, and groans when he realizes the dude left his backpack. The coordinator turns back to Alex, looking tired and annoyed. Alex can relate—a delayed flight during the holidays _is_ horribly cliche.  “What is your friend’s deal?”

 

Alex snaps his jaw shut. “Not my friend, he’s—I’ve never met him before,” he says, before swearing under his breath and grabbing the bag. He turns quickly and rushes to catch the guy. “Man, wait! You left your bag. You’re going to need it for when we finally board the flight.”

 

The guy turns around as Alex jogs to him, and his expression softens from the angry frown etched into his face. “Thanks,” he says quietly, and for the first time Alex realizes the guy is even cuter up close. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m usually not so…”

 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Alex understands. He offers the backpack forward, an olive branch. “No stress, man. It’s the holidays, delayed flights are shitty for everyone. Trust me, I wasn’t happy when I learned the flight was pushed back either, I’ve got stuff I have to get back to, and a delayed flight really might fuck that up.”

 

He cringes when he thinks about it, and the unread text from Eliza waiting for him on his phone. Part of him wants the flight delay to extend longer. He’s not sure he wants to go back, to the stuff he needs to take care of, but he’s trying to be a better person. Trying to change, to grow up. To prioritize. He’s been behaving like a child for too long.

 

The guy laughs a little, and it draws Alex out of his thoughts. It’s such a pretty sound that the first thing Alex thinks is that he wants to hear it again. He offers a hand to Alex. “John Laurens,” he says by way of introduction. Alex takes the hand. It’s soft, warm, just like John’s smile.

 

“Alexander Hamilton,” he responds, and if he stares and John a second too long and hold John’s hand too tight, well. He can’t be to blame.

 

John finally drops his hand and looks at the ground, embarrassed again. “Thanks for coming to my rescue with the bag. Don’t know what I would’ve done had I forgotten it. It’s all I’ve got now—” John freezes suddenly. He swallows, neck bobbing, and his face drains a little.

 

Alex knows a sensitive topic arising when he sees one. So he changes the subject, the best way he can, doing anything and everything he can to keep speaking to John Laurens and maybe survive this two hour delay. He’s always been told he never knows when to shut up. “So, what’s in New York? Home or vacation?”

 

John snorts. “New home, ideally. I’m leaving this place and not looking back,” he says, kind of sourly. Alex frowns. John seems to notice the look on Alex’s face as he clarifies, “My family is here, but I’m not welcome with them anymore, so. New home. In New York you can always start over, right?”

 

Alex crosses his arms. “Ah,” he says simply. He gets it. John’s leaving South Carolina the same way Alex left the Caribbean all those years ago, the same way he left New York most recently. In a way,  Alex is almost relieved to find someone else who understands the need to run when things get tough.

 

John glances at his backpack and swings it onto his shoulders, suddenly shy. “What about you?” he finally asks. “What’s in New York?”

 

“Home,” Alexander says, and his expression softens. He ran away, yes, but it wasn’t from his home; just his situation. He may be nervous about going back, he may dread what awaits him, but. New York is more of a home to him than any place has ever been. “Visiting my family in the Caribbean. South Carolina was just a layover.”

 

“Yikes,” John laughs, and he pulls a face. It’s unfairly endearing. “Sorry you got stuck in shitty, ever-charming South Carolina.”

 

“It’s not all bad,” Alex says decidedly, looking at John. He’s being cheesy and lame and he knows it, but he can’t help it. “I mean, I haven’t seen outside of the airport, but. It’s not all bad.”

 

John blinks cutely. “Alexander, I meant it when I said my life isn’t a motherfucking feel good holiday movie.”

 

Alex just keeps on staring.

 

“Don’t _flirt_ with me,” John stresses.

 

Alex winks.

 

John throws his hands up helplessly. “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“You don’t even _know_ me. _Yet_.”

 

John makes a sound. “Incorrigible!”

 

Alex just laughs. “Alright, alright, chill out. Are you gonna freak out if I hang out by you? We got two hours, man, I gotta keep myself entertained somehow. And I’m assuming you don’t have anywhere better to be since you’re running away from your problems?”

 

John whistles. “Low blow, asshole. You don’t even _know_ me.”

 

“ _Yet_ ,” Alex stresses again, and he’s rewarded by John’s loud laugh. He was right in his earlier assessment that it’s a sound he wants to hear again and again. “Come on. Don’t you know what the best thing to do during a delayed flight is? You _fuck shit up_.”

 

“Well, that’s one thing I’m great at,” John states, sarcastically. Alex thinks, _same_ , and ignores the pang in his heart when he thinks about Eliza. “But I’ve never had a delayed flight before, so tell me. What sort of shit can we fuck up at an airport?”

 

“ _You’ve never had a—_ ” Alex gasps. “Jonathan Laurens, unless you are some rich ass trust fund baby or this is your first flight _ever_ , it is _unacceptable_ for you to have never had a delayed flight before. Never fret, I am here to baptize you into the lives of _poor people_ and the game of Airport Scavenger Hunt.”

 

John blinks. “For what it’s worth, I’m not a rich ass trust fund baby anymore.”

 

Alex gapes.

 

“ _Oh my god I can’t even be your friend_.”

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for Alex to introduce John into the adventure that is scavenger hunting in an airport. John smiles brilliantly throughout the entirety of Alex’s explanation, and its the warmest Alex has felt in months. He’s spent months on the heat of the Caribbean, but in a cramped airport in South Carolina Alex realizes just how cold he’s felt since even before he’d even left New York. But John’s grin is warm, and his hand is warm from where he shoves Alex repeatedly when Alex acts particularly annoying, and Alex can’t help but wonder when he stopped feeling so _warm_ at home.

 

**From: Eliza**

[3:25] I’m trying to figure out where we stand, Alexander.

[3:25] Are we trying to fix this?

 

Alex thinks briefly that it was probably around the same time Eliza stopped greeting him with a kiss at the door when he came home.

 

He shakes his head and returns his focus back to John, who is currently reading over the quick list Alex had thrown together and texted to John for their scavenger hunt. “We just have to take pictures, right?” John asks, and Alex nods.

 

“Not all of us have the fallback money to buy all of this stuff,” he shoots back with a grin. John squawks indignantly and whacks Alex’s face with the sleeve of a hoodie they walk past. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, but it’s your fault! You shouldn’t have revealed your secret trust fund baby heritage, now I’m going to tease you mercilessly for it.”

 

John groans. “Okay, firstly, I revealed the secret trust fund baby heritage I no longer _claim_ ,” John corrects. Alex raises an eyebrow at him to show him just how unimpressed he is by John’s poor excuses. “I’m not telling you my tragic backstory. We are staying firmly out of the motherfucking feel good holiday movie category, remember? Staying _far_ the fuck away.”

 

“John, your words are so flattering, I’m weak,” Alex deadpans. “Next time woo me with your money talk.”

 

He shoves Alex again, and Alex laughs when he tumbles and pushes John back. “Are we doing this or what? God, you talk a fucking lot.”

 

“Never heard _that_ before,” deadpans Alex

 

“Holy fuck, shut _up_.”

 

And so the game begins.

 

Alex tries to lay low at first, letting John find the first few items and reveling in John’s excitement every time he finds an item on Alex’s shitty list. Their first stop is in a shop not far from their terminal, full of touristy shit and souvenirs. It’s _perfect_.

 

They’ve been in the shop for two minutes when John lets out a triumphant shout and Alex comes over to see what he’s found. “A snow globe that makes no sense,” John says smugly, and Alex glances at the snow globe in John’s hands. He’s right, Alex notes. It’s a beach scene incased in glass, sand and a palm tree and water, and the fucking snow. It doesn’t make sense, and Alex is stupidly proud of John. Alex pulls his phone out and snaps a picture of John holding the snow globe, because John is laughing so hard his eyes are crinkling and it’s twisting and turning all of Alex’s insides. The shop attendant is eyeing them at this point, probably because of how loud they’re being, and Alex stifles another burst of laughter. He tries to get John to put the snow globe back, but somewhere in Alex’s hands pushing against John’s the snow globe slips out of both of their grips and lands with a heavy _thunk_ on the metal shelf. Both Alex and John stop laughing instantly.

 

There’s a crack on the outside layer of the glass.

 

John quickly rights the snow globe, shoves it in the back row, and walks away whistling casually. 

 

Next they find a hoodie with some fucked up conservative bullshit on it, and Alex can’t help but gasp as they walk past it. “Jonathan,” he says dramatically. “I know you were, like, born and raised in South Carolina, but please tell me that this hoodie offends you as much as it offends me.”

 

It’s some bullshit about immigration, and Alex wants to set it on fire.

 

John holds the sweatshirt up to his chest, models it for a brief moment, then dramatically mimes throwing up over the offensive piece of material.

 

Alex could kiss him.

 

He doesn’t, though. Instead he mimes setting the entire rack of hoodies on fire, loudly.

 

They get thrown out of the shop for inappropriate behavior.

 

“Conservative pig,” Alex mutters under his breath.

 

John laughs again. “It doesn’t help that you literally wear your opinions on your sleeve,” John teases. “Or your backpack, I guess, if we’re being super literal. You’ve got to have, like, fifty pins on that thing.”

 

He’s not wrong. Included in Alex’s pin collection is his bi pride pin, an _I’m with her_ pin, a pin from the book store Herc runs, his _Steve Rogers is Bi_ pin, a Harry Potter house pride pin, and about a dozen other political pins. Alex purses his lips as he takes in his collection. “I will not apologize for my opinions,” he says with a shrug. John just nudges his shoulder and grins brilliantly at him.

 

“What’s next?” he asks.

 

John laughs for a solid ten minutes straight when Alex steals a construction cone and tries to wear it on his head. Alex, of course, overestimates how big and heavy it is and how little he actually is. When he topples over, John lays down on the ground and laughs until tears are streaming down his face. Alex tries to act upset, maybe a bit embarrassed and trying not to be, but he ends up laying down next to John. They lay there, pressed arm against arm, laughing, until a security guard walks by and asks them to stand up.

 

Eventually they start keeping a running tally of how many people they can spot with Starbucks cups. John takes a solid minute to demolish the company, claiming that he worked at a coffee shop that made Starbucks shit themselves. Alex hums, pretends to agree, and unceremoniously takes his own cup out of his backpack and throws it in the trash when John isn’t looking. The game is fun for about two minutes, but John’s much better at spotting the cups than Alex is. Eventually Alex throws his hands up in the air and admits defeat. The finally cup count is 51 for John, and a measly 29 for Alex.

 

“I hate you,” he tells John sourly, _not_ pouting because he’s working on being a better adult and adults don’t pout.

 

“I doubt that,” John says easily, and Alex is annoyed that he’s right.

 

He throws adulthood to the wind when John suggests they take discreet pictures of other patrons at the airport and make fun of their outfits. They must spend a good twenty minutes wandering around and taking Snapchats of the most atrocious outfits they can find. Alex is no fashion guru—he’s wearing a jacket, a ratty t-shirt, old jeans and scuffed shoes. But a head to toe pleather suit seems a bit excessive for airports and flights.

 

John also wins that round, showing up Alex’s picture of a grown woman in a dinosaur onesie with an image of a man wearing a skin tight leopard print leotard and Christmas leggings. Alex tries not to be too upset that John is unfairly good at _his_ scavenger hunt.

 

“I’m starting to think you lied about that trust fund just so you could throw me off and show me up on this game,” Alex mutters, pouting. John laughs, loud and twinkling, and reaches over to ruffle Alex’s hair. It had fallen out of its bun not long into their adventure, and the action makes Alex squawk indignantly.

 

“You caught me,” he says. “I’m a lying liar.”

 

Alex gasps dramatically, covering his heart like a properly shocked Southern belle. “Why, Mr. Laurens, how you offend my poor heart. I will not be _lied_ to.”

 

John shakes his head, but he’s smiling at Alex anyway. “Well, we’ve been kicked out of several shops, yelled at by a security guard, and confronted by an angry passenger because we’re about as fucking discreet as a neon sign. I think this scavenger hunt is officially maxed out. But the adventure must continue—we’ve got, what, another hour till the flight boards? What’s next?”

 

Alex narrows his eyes. He glances around the airport, and finally his eyes light up and he turns back to John. “How about you be a lying liar to someone other than _me,_ and try to board that—” Alex points to a flight to Rome that’s currently boarding, “—flight right there. Right now.”

 

John grins wickedly.

 

Alex tries to keep his cool as John pulls out his boarding pass for their flight and joins the line for the Rome flight. He bites his lip to keep from smiling, and John grins at him and winks from the line.

 

Alex does _not_ check John out, because they were trying to be _professional_ and _sneaky_.

 

When John gets to the front of the line, he tips his head to the coordinator at front and says, “Ma’am.” Alex _knows_ that bastard is using his Southern charm as a distraction. The coordinator smiles professionally at him, but seems otherwise unaffected.

 

She reaches for his ticket.

 

John doesn’t even get passed the line before the coordinator calls him back and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Sir, this isn’t your flight.”

 

John’s eyes widen comically. His hand covers his heart, and he says, “ _What_.”

 

She blinks, points at his ticket. “You’re on a flight for New York City, not Rome. It’s in a different terminal. Also, it left an hour ago.”

 

John shakes his head. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid that flight got delayed.”

 

The woman’s mouth sets in a straight line. Alex starts giggling. “Well, this isn’t your flight, sir. Please return to your proper terminal, they’ll let you know when your flight—the correct one—will board.”

 

“This isn’t my flight?” John repeats, blinking cutely at the girl. She narrows her eyes. She’s completely impervious to John’s adorable behavior. Alex kind of admires her for it. John decides to back off, biting his lip. “Alright, ma’am, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’ll leave you alone now, ma’am. Have a wonderful day.”

 

The second he reaches Alex they both burst into guffaws. The flight coordinator shoots them an irritated look, and Alex grabs John’s hand and quickly tugs him away. They’re still giggling as they stumble away, and eventually they wander down a hallway that’s mostly empty. Their giggles subside, but they remain holding hands as they walk down the hallway. Eventually, Alex points to a travelator blocked off by tape. “It’s broken,” Alex says.

 

“Add it to the list,” John replies, and he giggles again. Alex laughs too.

 

“The Official List of Broken Things,” Alex declares loudly, swinging their hands. “Number one: John’s previous home life. Number two: John’s bank account. Number three: That snow globe we accidentally dropped and left behind. Number four: I’m pretty sure we broke that poor flight coordinator who was just trying to do her job.”

 

“Hey, not everything on this list can be my fault!” John complains.

 

“Number five: Alex’s marriage,” Alex says, and his voice falters towards the end. He realizes this is the first he’s spoken about it to John—maybe the first he’s brought it up at all in two months. John’s steps falter, too. He lets go of Alex’s hand.

 

Alex tries not to let the disappointment overtake him.

 

He sidesteps the tape and sits down right in the middle of the broken travelator, and after a moment’s hesitation John joins him. Despite Alex’s slip of the tongue, John sits pressed close to him, arm against arm, so that they’re separated only by their few layers of clothing.

 

“So,” John says conversationally. His voice is quiet, timid. “You have a spouse.”

 

Alex cringes. “Had,” he corrects out of instinct. His heart pangs. “A wife. She left me. Or rather, we left each other. She packed up her bags and went to stay with her sisters, and I ran away to the Caribbean. Like I always do when I’m scared, run away. Been there for… Two months? She reached out to me again about a month ago. Said I needed to come home so we could finalize it. I asked if that was what she wanted. She said we could try to fix it, but. Two weeks later I received the divorce papers. That’s what’s waiting for me in New York. A divorce finalization.”

 

“I’m sorry,” John says quietly. Alex swallows. “I’m _sorry_ , Alex.”

 

Alex laughs humorlessly. “She reached out to me again and asked if I wanted to try to fix this. I don’t know what she wants. I don’t think… I’m not sure I want to fix it.”

 

“What happened?” John whispers. Alex leans his head against the glass.

 

“We met young,” Alex says quietly. “We fell in love young. We got married young. We did everything years too early because we thought it was for the best. But Eliza, she’s… She’s headstrong. And she’s smart. And she deserves more than me. I was too involved with my work and my writing and everything except her. I tried to devote more time to her but I was stretching myself too thin. She wanted to go back to school, she wanted to start her own business, I wanted to support her but. Neither of us had time for each other. I still loved her when she left, it’s just. We ran into it so fast and we didn’t know what we wanted and she packed her bags and I left when she did. And now. I don’t know. I think it’s better that we’re not together. I can’t support her the way she needs. I can’t—” Alex stops talking. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I want to fix it, John.”

 

They’re silent for a moment. Alex thinks, briefly, that it’s more comfort than words would be. Alex is confused and lost, and John’s like a beacon to him, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to follow it. A few minutes pass.

 

John takes a deep breath. “The reason I’m leaving home is because my dad found out I’m gay,” he says, and his voice is so quiet Alex barely hears it. “I was engaged, for a while. My dad’s a senator. He had an image to keep, you know. So it was a marriage of convenience. Martha was a nice girl, but. She caught me kissing this guy at a bar and she took it to my father, and. I tried to smooth things over, but he said horrible things. Horrible things. And I just lashed out. And so I said horrible things, I stood up for myself, I told him that I wasn’t any different just because of who I was attracted to. And I packed my bags and I took off.”

 

“ _John_ ,” Alex whispers, horrified.

 

John shivers. “I don’t want to be ashamed of who I love, Alex,” John says, a little brokenly, and he sucks in a shaking breath. Alex reaches for John’s hand again, and tries not to let out a sound of relief when John takes it. “I loved… The last man I loved left me because my father was the conservative South Carolinian senator and I wasn’t out. He said he couldn’t date a man in the closet and he took my heart and he left, and— I don’t know. That’s why I let my father arrange my marriage. To a woman. But I want to love someone with my entire being, you know? You married young because you thought it was what was right for you. I don’t even know what’s right for me.”

 

“You’ll find it,” Alex tells him, quietly, surely. “You’ll find what’s right for you.”

 

Alex swallows thickly and pushes away the thought that John is exactly what’s right for him. They’ve known each other less than two hours. They’ve barely _met_. Alex has no _right_ to think that John is everything that’s right for him. He doesn’t think he’s anything right for John.

 

John lets out a small chuckle. He rests his head on Alex’s shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he mumbles, and they relax against the glass for a while. It feels good, sitting on the ground in the midst of the holiday madness, reveling in the secrets they've shared, the pieces of each other they’ve given freely. John’s head is a nice weight on Alex’s shoulder, his hair tickling the nape of Alex’s neck, his hands warm and soft in Alex’s own.

 

Then, John starts laughing again and says, “You have a _wife_.”

 

Alex sighs. “I need a drink.”

 

* * *

 

The bar is busy, holiday fliers annoyed with flight delays and last minute shopping and other irritations that come with the seasons. Eventually John and Alex find a seat at the bar, and take their spots, maybe a bit too close, and order some drinks. Alex feels more comfortable with John than he’s felt anywhere else, no matter where they are. On a broken travelator, in a crowded bar, in a shop, anywhere. It’s natural, the conversation is never stilted, he always feels at ease. He wonders if John feels the same way.

 

They sip their beers in respective silence, enjoy the Christmas movie playing on the bar televisions, order another round. They talk about anything and everything. Alex learns that John is a social worker, learns about all the rallies John’s attended in silence, all of the things he believes in. John learns that Alex left the Caribbean after his mom died, was fostered by a great family who still takes care of him to this day. They talk about their friends for a bit, John laughing at Alex as he lights up and tells crazy stories. Alex gives John a list of all the places he has to check out once he’s in New York.

 

John starts to get more feisty the longer they sit at the bar top. He’s a lightweight, and Alex cuts him off but drinks another beer on his own to get caught up. They get a little too giggly and a little too loud, and another patron asks them to quiet down. John makes a fart noise at the man and Alex laughs too loud again.

 

“Hey,” the man says again. “I get that you’re drunk, and that we’re all a little pissed the flights are delayed, but can you shut the hell up? Some of us are still trying to have conversations.”

 

“You’re conversing _just fine right now_ ,” John shouts, pointing. “I think you need— _hiccup_ —another round, my man.”

 

“I think you need to stop drinking,” the guy retorts, and John lurches out of seat. He stumbles a bit and the guy stands up too. Quickly Alex is on his feet, hands already reaching to pull John back. “Hey, control your fucking boyfriend, asshole.”

 

Alex recoils. “He’s—”

 

“Shut your _goddamn_ mouth,” John slurs. “Alex is, is, like _twice_ the man you are, man, and. Um. You just _shut up_ , and seriously, my dude, have another drink. It’s the motherfucking holidays, _unwind_ for once.”

 

The man starts forward, and Alex quickly pulls John back. “We’re not here to fight, man,” Alex says, tugging John back. Usually Alex isn’t one to back down from a fight, but they’ve gotten thrown out of enough places in this airport today, and he’s a little too tipsy for this. “John, back off.”

 

“ _I’ll fight you_ ,” John’s shouting, stumbling against Alex.

 

“Sir, can you control your friend?” the bartender asks, looking like he’s about to call security. Alex tries to tug on John again but John pushes back against him and Alex falls against the bar. He bursts into laughs, unable to stop the giggles that bubble out.

 

“Back _off_ , Alex, oh my god,” John says, slurred and sounding exasperated and fond. He stumbles towards the man but he pushes John back, angry. John yells again, unintelligible nonsense.

 

"Sir, if you can't reign in your friend, I'm going to have to throw you out!"

 

Alex is still giggling like a madman, but he stumbles his way to John and wraps his arms around his waist, tugging.

 

"I'll fight you," John is shouting, slurred, and Alex laughs into John's shoulder as he pulls him away.

 

"No, you won't," Alex says in between giggles. "Come on, they're throwing us out of here. Add that to our list. Come on, come on."

 

John throws one sloppy punch in the air, but he stumbles and laughs when he falls back on Alex and Alex grunts. " _Alexaaaaaaander_ ," he sings, and he sticks his fingers in Alex's mouth. Alex splutters and begins giggling again, and both he and John are ushered out of the bar. The guard is trying to corral them onto a bench when John suddenly stiffens.

 

"John?" Alex asks. His arms are still around John’s waist, John’s arm thrown haphazardly around Alex’s neck.

 

"I need to use the bathroom," John whispers, loudly, urgently. "Take me to the, um. Take me. To the bathroom."

 

Alex waves off the guard and carefully he and John make their way to the nearest restroom. It's one of the family bathrooms, single stalled, but John insists and tugs Alex in there with him. John shuts the door quickly and locks it before bolting to the sink.

 

Alex leans against the door and tries to stop giggling while John braces himself against the sink. Alex hopes briefly that John doesn't get sick and throw up because it would put a damper on their evening.

 

John turns around suddenly and Alex is immediately silent. John's eyes are on him, wide and blown and a little scared.

 

“Alexander," John says timidly, and a shiver runs through Alex's body.

 

He steps forward, and Alex is flush against the wall with nowhere to go. John’s still walking towards him, a little hesitant, and he comes to a stop only inches from Alex.

 

"John?" Alex says, small.

 

And that’s all it takes.

 

John presses Alex against the wall, traps him with hands on either side of his body. His eyes are dark, his breath hot on Alex’s face, and Alex doesn’t have time to speak again before John’s mouth is on his. Alex gasps, but John takes it in stride and kisses him harder. They’re flush against each other, against the wall, and Alex is stuck between the cool tiles and John’s warm body. His hands scramble for purchase until he finally gets grip on John’s hips. John’s lips are soft to the touch but forceful against his, needy and hot and unlike anything Alex could have imagined. John sucks Alex’s bottom lip between his own and bites a little, and when Alex gasps again John takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth.

 

Alex thinks he might be _vibrating_ , he’s so high off of John’s touch.

 

Alex’s hands slide from John’s hips under his shirt, pressing firm against the skin of John’s stomach. John shivers from the touch and Alex grips him tighter. One of John’s hands moves from the wall to Alex’s face. John pulls away from the kiss and moves to Alex’s jawline, sucking little kisses along the skin and holding Alex’s head steady with his hand. Alex bites his lip to keep from moaning. His hips rock instinctively against John’s. John’s breath hitches.

 

“John,” Alex pants, but it isn’t a question anymore. His voice sounds desperate and needy to his own ears. John shushes him, his breath hot on Alex’s skin, and he moves down and latches on to a spot right above Alex’s collarbone. Alex can’t stop the sound that escapes his lips, but it only spurs John on. Alex moves his hands to John’s hair, twining his fingers in the curls and holding John to his spot. He moves his hips again, rocking against John’s body, and a low groan escapes John’s mouth.

 

Alex grins.

 

“Thought your life wasn’t a motherfucking feel good holiday movie,” he says, breathy. John bites Alex’s shoulder bone and soothes it with his tongue.

 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” John responds, low and quiet.

 

“Why don’t you come back up here and—” He doesn’t get to finish before John’s kissing him again, full of heat and hunger and need. Alex is tingling from head to toe, lightheaded from John and his warmth and his touch. His hands are still in John’s hair and he tugs slightly on the curls there. John kisses him without hesitance, with something Alex can’t name, and it makes his toes curl.

 

He lifts his hands higher up John’s torso, reveling at the smooth skin and muscle, and when he reaches John’s nipple he pinches it between his fingers. John hisses into Alex’s mouth, and Alex eats it up. John’s own hands move from Alex’s face to his jacket, where he unzips it slowly and runs his hands up Alex’s body. Alex shivers again. John presses Alex firmer against the wall.

 

Without warning, the kisses turn from something hot and needy to something sweeter. Alex’s hands stop wandering and settle again on John’s hips, and John wraps his arms around Alex.

 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” John whispers against Alex’s lips. “Saw you before I’d even walked up to the desk. Wondered. _Hoped—_ ” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Didn’t hope too long. Kind of forgot what hope feels like, you know? But you were just _there_ , bright and calling and so focused on that damn notebook. My _god_ , you were the first bright thing in my life in months.”

 

“ _John_ ,” Alex gasps.

 

“Then you came to my fucking _rescue_ , like you think you’re some kind of knight in shining armor,” John laughs. His grip tightens on Alex’s waist. “Motherfucker, you must think you’re hot shit. You have any idea what that did to me? God, you’re so—”

 

Alex shuts him up with another kiss, not wasting time before sliding his tongue along John’s. He revels in John’s moan. John slides Alex’s jacket off his shoulders and slips his hands under Alex’s shirt. Alex shudders when John sucks on a spot right below his jawline. His hands return to John’s curls, twining tightly in them and pulling. In one quick motion John pulls away long enough to yank Alex’s t-shirt off. He moves down and licks along Alex’s nipple. John’s hands steady Alex’s tremors, his hands splayed across Alex’s hips. Alex startles when John’s fingers move to unbutton his pants.

 

“John,” he says, for the third time, quickly. John freezes instantly.

 

“If you say no, we’ll stop right now,” John whispers, shaking.

 

Alex wants to cry. “God,” he gasps. His entire body is on fire. “God, I want to, _I want to_ , but. John, you’re _drunk_.”

 

He isn’t, anymore. The second John kissed him he’d sobered up from head to toe. John was his own form of alcohol, a drug that put everything in crystal clear focus. He’s never felt like this before, never felt so _aware_ of everything around him. He’s away of John’s hands on his body, big and warm and perfect. He’s aware of the tickle on his neck from where John’s hair had scratched him, he’s aware of the pulsing spot on his neck where John had marked him. He’s aware of John’s evident arousal pressing against his thigh. John kissed him and suddenly everything slotted into place, and Alex could see and feel and touch with perfect clarity. But John, he’s _drunk_ , and Alex _can’t_ —

 

“No,” John argues, weakly.

 

“I don’t want you to regret this,” Alex says, even if he’s praying for this moment to never end.

 

“I _want you_ ,” John responds, and he presses a kiss to Alex’s jawline. “I’m not—I’m not drunk. A little tipsy, maybe, but I know what I’m doing. I want this, I want _you_ , I wanted you the second I caught sight of you sitting in that damn airport chair. _I want you_.”

 

A sharp shudder makes its way through Alex’s body. His grip tightens in John’s hair, and it spurs John on. All of his blood has rushed downwards, Alex is lightheaded and John is sucking another mark onto Alex’s neck. John’s hands return to Alex’s pants, and Alex almost cries out when John’s hands brush against his growing erection. He keeps his hands in John’s hair, loving the way his twists and tugs make John moan and shiver. John slides Alex’s pants down to his ankles and sinks to his knees.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Alex gasps, choked. John palms Alex over his underwear, and Alex sucks in a breath again.

 

“God, Alexander,” John murmurs, and his breath his hot near Alex’s cock. Alex starts to shiver but John soothes him by pressing a hand against Alex’s hip. “Shh, baby girl. I got you. You look so pretty from down here, good and full for me. I can’t wait to get my mouth on you, you’re _gorgeous_.”

 

Alex writhes under John’s ministrations. His entire body is trembling under the attention, and he whines when John’s hand slips past the fabric and his fingers wrap around Alex’s cock. Alex gasps again.

 

In a quick movement, John frees Alex’s dick from his boxers, and before Alex can process the chill of the bathroom he’s overwhelmed by the heat of John’s mouth as John wraps his lip around the head.

 

“ _Shit shit shit_ ,” Alex chants, and his hips automatically rock into John’s mouth. His hands tighten on John’s curls again, and John moans.

 

Alex sees stars.

 

John makes another obscene noise as he pulls off of Alex’s dick. “You like that?” John whispers, and his tongue licks along the tip. Alex cries out. “I bet you do; you feel so good in my mouth.”

 

Without warning, John takes Alex in his mouth again and Alex cries out again. His breath is hot and wet and obscene, and Alex is falling apart under his minstrations. John growls again, and Alex yanks on John’s hair. He fucks his hips into John’s mouth slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him, and John takes it like a champ. He licks along the underside of Alex’s cock, he swipes his tongue along the length, his hands press firm against Alex’s hips. The tip of Alex’s dick reaches the back of John’s throat, and John lets out a low chuckle.

 

Alex’s eyes roll back into his head.

 

“Sh-sh-s- _shit_ ,” Alex babbles. “John, _John_ , oh god. You feel so good, that feels good, g-god, don’t _stop_.”

 

John moves his head back and forth, and Alex rocks his hips in rhythm to it. He steadies himself with his hand in John’s hair, loses himself in the feeling of John’s warm mouth on his dick and John’s large hands steadying his hips.

 

He hasn’t felt like this in months, hasn’t had anything remotely similar to this in far too long. It’s more than the good sex, the great sex and John’s obscene mouth. Alex’s entire nervous system is vibrating, every cell in his body lit up by John’s touch and John’s laugh and _John_. Alex can feel himself getting closer, and his hands tighten in John’s hair automatically, almost like habit.

 

“J-John,” he stammers. “ _John_ , John, _J—_ I’m close, I’m close—”

 

He’s nearly sobbing.

 

John pops off again, whispers, “ _Good_ ,” against the skin of Alex’s thigh, and he takes Alex back in his mouth when Alex shudders again.

 

Alex fucks into John’s mouth again, and John licks and sucks and Alex cries out again. John’s hands wrap around Alex’s hips. He tugs on them, urging Alex to fuck faster.

 

“John, John,” Alex chants, and John’s tongue flicks across the tip of Alex’s dick, and that’s all it takes. Alex comes with a shout, loud and echoing, John—

 

John swallows.

 

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Alex sobs, and he thinks he might come again. John pulls off with another obscene noise, licks his lips, and trails his tongue up Alex’s body before making his way back up and kissing Alex soundly. Alex licks lazily into John’s mouth, still overwhelmed but satisfied. He continues to kiss John and slips his hand into the waistband of John’s pants, wrapping decisively around John’s cock. John moans a little into Alex’s mouth as Alex frees John’s dick and pulls. John makes sinful noises as Alex tugs and twists. In no matter of time at all, John is coming in Alex’s hand. They kiss a bit longer, lazily, until John finally pulls away and they go to clean each other up.

 

Once they’re clean and clothed again, Alex presses John against the door again and kisses him some more, drunk on the feeling of John on him. John’s grinning against his mouth, laughing a little, and Alex laughs too.

 

“How’s that for a motherfucking feel good holiday movie?” Alex says, breathlessly. John bites Alex’s lip.

 

“I hate you,” John murmurs against Alex’s lips.

 

“No, you don’t,” Alex laughs. It’s an echo of their conversation earlier, when they’d only first met. It’s a nice echo.

 

“No, I don’t,” John agrees, looking softly at Alex. Alex rests his forehead on John’s, and for a moment they just breathe in and calm down, relishing in their past two hours. “We should head back. They’ll be boarding soon, right?”

 

Alex presses a kiss to John’s forehead, and John kisses his cheek. It’s surprisingly tender, too sweet considering they’ve known each other for such a short amount of time. But Alex’s heart is happy, lighter than it’s been in far too long. He thinks that this is how it’s supposed to be. He wonders if he’d be able to give it up.

 

“Let’s go back,” he agrees.

 

* * *

 

When they finally get back to the terminal, they don’t even take a seat before they find out the flight has been delayed another hour. But, pressed side to side with their fingers lazily intertwined, it doesn’t seem so bad. Alex finally texts Eliza back and tells her that he’ll see her when his flight lands, then turns off his phone and pockets it. John pulls out a pen and doodles a turtle on the inside of Alex’s palm. Alex presses gentle kisses to the side of John’s head and wonders if he could have ever dreamed of something like this happening to him.

 

Eventually they stand up again and make their way to a shop that they haven’t been kicked out of yet. They wander aimlessly for a while, always touching, before finding their way to a section of post cards. Alex holds one up, a picture of an ugly ass highway, and says, “If you could write a post card to that guy who left you, what would you say?”

 

John peers at it curiously. He cocks his head to the side, and it’s so adorable Alex’s heart physically aches. “Huh. I’d say, blast from the past, bitch. I thought you were what’s best for me, but… I was wrong. I’m on a better path now. In a better place. And I’m out to my family now, motherfucker, so I’m glad you left me for that reason. I hope you’re doing alright, because my life is getting a lot better.” John’s face softens. “I learned a lot from you, don’t get me wrong. But you left me because you thought I’d never come out to my family and that sucked. But I’m gonna build my own life from here on out, and I don’t think I could have done that if you hadn’t left. I have my heart back, now. You’re still an asshole. But I do hope you’re alright. Thanks for showing me why it’s important to find people you can trust.”

 

Alex laughs, and puts the post card back in place.

 

John twirls the post card stand and plucks out a post card with Lady Liberty on the front. “What would you say to Eliza?”

 

Alex sighs. “Dear Eliza,” he begins. “We were right for each other once, but now I—” He stops suddenly. He can’t go on, he can’t keep talking, he _can’t_. For once in his life, he’s speechless and he doesn’t know how to get what he needs to say without ruining his life. “John,” he says instead. “John, I want you to know that. That I’m so grateful that we met and that we’ve—we’ve spent this time together and I can’t. I can’t imagine my life going on without you, I _can’t_ , but you need to know. I don’t know what I want right now. I don’t know if I should try to salvage my marriage. I signed the papers weeks ago, but she hasn’t and she might want to fix this and I don’t know if I want to but I don’t know if I _don’t_ want to. And then there’s you. _You_. John. I don’t—”

 

John quiets him by enveloping him in a hug and running his fingers through Alex’s hair. “Shh,” he says, and Alex’s heart breaks when he realizes how sad John sounds. “Shh. It’s okay, Alex. It’s okay. I understand.”

 

“I _want_ you,” Alex says, brokenly. “I do.”

 

John shushes him again, presses a gentle kiss into his hair. Alex sucks in a sharp breath and kisses John’s jaw. “I want you too, Alex,” John says. “We’ll figure something out.”

 

Alex turns their attention back to the post cards, desperately trying to return to the place he and John where before they meddled feelings into the entire mess. John lights up spectacularly at a post card of a beach with baby sea turtles crawling to the water. Alex grins and holds up his hand, on it a similar image of the turtles John had drawn.

 

John stares at the picture a bit too long, and if Alex buys it discreetly and slips it in his backpack when John isn’t paying attention, well. He still can’t be to blame.

  
Eventually they make their way back to the boarding terminal and sit back on the ground. Alex sighs, and his hands fidget for a pen for a moment before John slips his hand in instead. Alex sighs, feeling at peace again.

 

John fidgets again. “Didn’t you say you’re a writer?”

 

Alex shrugs noncommittally. "I write," he clarifies. "Don't know if that constitutes me as a writer. Just means I got a lot on my mind that I need to get out before I burst, y'know?"

 

John peers at him, eyes curious. "What do you write?"

 

Alex huffs out a breath, and the hairs that have fallen out of his pony tail away. "What don't I write," Alex sighs. It's what Eliza used to say, anyways. "Dissertations. Arguments. Essays. Poems, short stories, a novel twice. Several journals, a blog for a short while. Writing just... Soothes me, sometimes. I don't know. So I write whatever I have."

 

"Write something now," John suggests, and it startles Alex.

 

"What?"

 

"Write something now. We've got, what, another thirty minutes before our flight even boards? Write me something. For me, or for you, or for whatever. Just—” John waves his hand in the air, “—write.”

 

So Alexander does. John lays his head in Alex's lap and closes his eyes, and Alex's hands automatically twine into John's curls again. And he writes.

 

"Though it was not my expectation to stumble headfirst into this rabbit hole, I gladly resign myself to the fate that awaits my landing if it so means I get to fall by your side. 

You've stolen into my affections in the most unfair of manners, but it isn't within me to protest if it so means I get a glimpse of your affections in return.

You've spoken of your disheartenings and it is within my power to despise everything short of all that you are, and I would happily put aside a life of happy reserve if it so means I'd earned a life next to you.

Do not disclaim my words with your own doubts, I plead, for love is love is love is love is love, and I will spend an eternity quieting your doubts if it so means I get that eternity.

Tomorrow brings a new tomorrow brings a new tomorrow, but I will not fear the rise and set of sun if it so means quiet moments in the dark with you.

In short, nothing in this world has ever quite uprooted me before. Nothing in this world has quite so rocked my very foundation. I have had many shortcomings, many challenges, many trials, many triumphs, but I will proudly proclaim that my greatest success was meeting you, if it so means we keep this brief window of time together in our hearts forevermore."

 

* * *

 

John kisses his hand after they've boarded the plane, and after a moment's hesitation brings Alex closer to press a lingering kiss to Alex's forehead. Alex closes his eyes and breathes it in and tries to pretend that his heart isn't stammering in his chest. Then John sits down and Alex is ushered to the back of the plane and when he collapses in his seat the reality of the day sinks in on him.

 

In a few hours, Eliza will be picking him up from the airport. They may not belong to each other anymore, but Alex can't help but wonder if he's betrayed her. There was that chance, that slim open door Alex could slip through and walk his way back into her good graces. He knows she left it open for him. But he wonders, as he stares at that open door, if there isn't a different chance he'd love to take.

 

Eliza is everything he wanted when he was younger. She gave him a family fresh out of a hurricane, she taught him love and self respect and dignity. She was supportive when needs be, firm when the time called for it, and soft to him when the entire world was hard. A few years ago she was exactly what he needed. Now, he thinks, she's exactly what he doesn't deserve.

 

John is loud, and abrasive, and impulsive, and beautiful. Where Eliza was soft strokes on a canvas, John is bold designs and bright colors. He appeared like a beacon to Alex and kept drawing him in all night long. Alex knows John has the potential to be a great man, he knows John will go to New York and thrive without the weight of his father's heavy hand on his shoulder. Alex thinks stupidly for a moment that he wants to be there to watch it happen.

 

What does Eliza expect from him after his landing? Is he to greet her with a kiss, with a hug, with a polite smile? He wonders if she really wanted to fix what they'd broken between them, or if they'd be better off for one another as friends, or out of each other’s lives entirely. He doesn't think he'd be able to enthusiastically meet her with a kiss, his heart isn't in it after tonight, with John, and he wonders if it ever will be. In three short hours everything Alexander knew, his entire world, was turned upside down. He's not sure he'll ever be the same.

 

It's cloudless outside the plane, and Alex takes a moment to enjoy the rolling fields they pass over. Up ahead he can see John, barely, distinguishable only by the pile of curls he's secured in a bun on top of his head. It makes him smile just as much as it makes his heart ache. He wishes he and John sat closer, even if it just meant a few more quiet moments with one another. He wants to run his fingers through John's curls, wants to kiss every freckle, wants to fuck John slowly and languidly and show him how good he can be outside of an airport bathroom. He wants so much with John that he's aching with it, in his very bones, and he's consumed. John has consumed him.

 

He must doze off, stressed by thoughts and contemplations, and when he wakes up the attendants are announcing their beginning to descend. Alex looks up and catches John's eye from across several rows of seats. John smiles softly at him.

 

Something settles in Alexander's chest.

 

He picks up a pen and begins to write.

 

* * *

 

John gets off the plane before Alex does, and Alex just bounces in his seat with a letter in one hand and his backpack in the other. John turns back as he's leaving, and Alex tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat.

 

His phone buzzes with a text.

 

**From: Eliza**

[9:07] We're at the terminal waiting. Let us know when you land?

 

John smiles brilliantly at him before he walks off the plane.

 

Alex’s heart hammers painfully. He thinks for a moment he’d give anything to see that smile every day. The letter feels heavy in his hand, the envelope daunting, the contents full. He wonders briefly if he’s making the right choice. He thinks back to John’s smile, to the three hours that he’s never going to forget.

 

Finally, finally, its Alex's turn to get off the plane. His grip tightens on his backpack as he makes his way down the aisles, and he fidgets with the envelope in his other hand. In a heavy hand, written on the front, is John's name.

 

"Alex," John calls when Alex steps out of the runway. His eyes are wide and hopeful.

 

Alex pushes his way past the last two people separating him and John and immediately he grabs John's jawline and yanks him up for a kiss. John melts into it, his own hands pushing away the backpack straps so that he can grip Alexander's hips.

 

Alex pulls away for a moment, rests his forehead on John's, breathes in. John shudders.

 

"Don't say goodbye, please," John whispers. Alex squeezes his eyes closed. "I wasn't going to beg. I told myself I wouldn't beg. But I will. Please, don't say goodbye. Stay with me."

 

 "John," Alex breathes. "John, keep your head high. Promise me."

 

John starts to cry.

 

"No, no," Alex whispers. He wipes away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Please, John, don't cry. Don't cry."

 

"Stay," John asks again.

 

Alex kisses John's forehead one more time and presses the letter into John's hands.

 

And he turns away.

 

It takes everything he has to keep walking to the terminal to greet Eliza, to not turn around and run back to John and press kisses all over his freckles. But he restrains himself, he puts one foot in front of the other, he forces himself forward until he sees Eliza and Hercules waiting for him on the other side. Hercules crows when Alex walks into his line of sight, and Eliza, ever beautiful, gives him a timid smile.

 

He wants to give her one back, but his heart is on the other side of the airport, left in the hands of a curly haired Southerner, encased in an envelope.

 

Hercules wraps him in a huge hug the second Alex reaches them, and Alex can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Eliza stands to the side.

 

"Hi, Eliza," he says, quiet with her for the first time in his life. Her eyes seem to realize this, and her expression changes. She looks at Alex with understanding, with curiosity, and with a pang of disappointment. Alex wonders what he ever did to convince her to love him in the first place.

 

"Alexander," she replies. "What happened?"

 

* * *

 

Across the airport, still sitting in a chair with tears dried on his face, John holds in his hand the contents of the letter Alexander had pressed into his grip before walking away.

 

Included was one letter, short, five lines. Signed with _love_. John held up the other content of the envelope, examined it closer.

 

A post card, a picture of the beach and baby sea turtles on the sand. On the back, one sentence.

 

And John smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> i am no longer an active part of the hamilton fandom, but if you need: you can find me on [tumblr](https://feuillyys.tumblr.com) crying abt les mis or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tannscotts) posting about various things.
> 
>  
> 
> comment, kudos, bookmark below!


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